A Stitch In Time
by Jenwryn
Summary: Elizabeth/John. My MegAU. John Sheppard cheats on Elizabeth offworld and then tries a dodgy method of fixing their relationship, involving beer and a time travel device. Very tongue in cheek and probably not my best. Sheppard and McKay friendship.
1. Oh, You Silly, Silly Boy

_Disclaimer & A/N: as per usual, I don't own the stargate universe... or Sheppard... or McKay... etc. You get the picture. I do however own a handful of the characters who will pop their ugly heads up in this story (including for starters Meaghan Monahan), but I won't talk about them much here for fear of being my own spoiler. Suffice to say, they're mine. (Mine! Mine! Mine!) Ah, okay, before I go totally Gollum on you let's just say thanks to QueenBoris who suggested Sheppard and time travel in the same sentence in the Challenge Forum. Sure this wasn't what he/she had in mind, but there you go! Actually, it was sort of also inspired by IceCreamJunkie, in the same Forum, who mentioned John kirking-around and breaking Elizabeth's heart. Well, I thought, I could try that..._

_This story is set about, I dunno, a year after Elizabeth's Email in my AU, which is to say, John and Elizabeth are an established couple._

_Warnings for stupidity content. But review anyway!_

* * *

**Oh, You Silly, Silly Boy**

A stitch in time saves nine - isn't that what they always tell you?

John groans at the thought, puts his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, and does his utmost best to ignore the sound of McKay muttering like a maniac beside him. It just goes to show that you shouldn't trust those old proverbs as far as you can throw them. You see, what they _don't_ tell you is that if you tug one of the wrong threads in the time-tapestry (to keep with the metaphor), the whole damned thing unravels around your ears.

He sits on the cold bench with his rear freezing off, and tries to think of something positive that has come from it all - or even better, some way in which it might yet turn out okay. But nothing occurs to him. His head is emptier than a pan-handler's stomach. Admittedly, the fear which has grabbed him by the guts isn't helping him any - and nor for that matter is Rodney. Why in hell did they have to put him in here with _Rodney_? Is it some kind of torture? He glares at the scientist, but McKay is too busy rocking back and forth and muttering non-stop. What's with that any way? Has he found religion and is seeking solace in desperate prayer? Huh, maybe he's reciting the periodic table! John whacks the Canadian hard on the side of the head, but McKay just blinks, frowns at him, and keeps muttering.

The fear is a bigger problem than McKay, though. It's like an ice-cold bowling ball in his stomach and no matter what he does, he can't shake it.

He hasn't been this scared since he was a little kid.

The fact that he's afraid is frightening.

John jumps to his feet and he forces his body to straighten and walk tall as though he were as happy as larry. He doesn't know if they're watching, but he bets they are, and he doesn't see why he should give them the gratification of watching a broken man. Bloody arrogant swines... Mind you, if Rodney keeps muttering like that, he might very well get _literally_ broken. John forces the thought away, raises his head, and tries to pull an expression of defiance onto his face. Somehow he doubts it's very convincing - hell, it doesn't even convince him - but on the other hand it's better than moping. Or murdering McKay.

He starts pacing back and forth, racking his brain for a solution. He's thinking, what would McKay do if McKay weren't turned into a muttering-rocking-stupid-basket-case?

_Well, for a start, McKay would never have gotten them into this mess. It wasn't McKay who had made the drunken, impulsive move without thinking through the consequences. It wasn't McKay who had thrown himself willy-nilly into the world of time-travel in the hope of fixing one stupid mistake. Come to think of it, he couldn't imagine McKay having made a mistake like that in the first place._

He stops pacing, and leans his face against the bars of their cell. Of all the stupid, stupid things...

And now, he might never see her again.

* * *

Thirty-six hours earlier - at least, thirty-six hours when viewed in the most simplistic of senses - Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard had been standing in Elizabeth's office and refusing to look her in the eyes. She was furious, he knew that, but he'd faced her fury before and survived unscathed. It was quick, and volatile -- and ultimately forgiving. That wasn't what bothered him. Wasn't what he was refusing to deal with. 

It was the tears he couldn't look at. The tears that accused him of having betrayed her trust.

She just sat there at her desk and cried.

While he stood awkwardly in silence and stared sideways at the wall.

'Why?' she had asked. She hadn't yelled or shouted or made a scene like he had presumed she would when she found out. Just cried and asked that one question, 'Why?'

He'd shoved his hands deep in his pockets and chewed the inside of his cheek. And in his guilt and his shame and his remorse at what he'd done, he couldn't find an answer that he could give her. Hell, he couldn't really even find an answer for himself. He didn't _know_ why he'd done it. Because he'd been off-world for three months and the nights were cold? Because the girl had looked at him with those liquid amber-coloured eyes? Because her skin had been so warm and willing under his touch?

Because he was the biggest idiot in the galaxy?

And since he could not answer, and was ashamed, he had converted his pain into anger instead, and shouted stupidities at her that he knew were hurtful, horrible lies, and then had stormed out, sliding the door shut with such force behind him that the glass had cracked.

Then he had gone and got impossibly drunk.

And _then _he had somehow ended up in McKay's quarters.

* * *

McKay had mentally kicked himself the _moment _he had opened the door. You didn't have to look at John to know what he'd been doing, you just had to get within a three-metre radius before the alcohol fumes hit you and made your eyes water. You could probably get drunk just by breathing in the air around him. McKay had tried desperately to shut the door again, but had failed, and John had pushed right past him into his quarters. God, what a thing to happen. The rumours about the scene in Elizabeth's office had permeated even to McKay's ears, so he knew _why_ John was drunk - just not why he'd chosen to end up _here. _It was ridiculous. 

It was also common knowledge that while a slightly drunk John was charming and charismatic - and a rather drunk John was the life of the party - a _seriously_ drunk John was about as useless as a pickled herring. McKay watched in a sort of fascinated horror as the city's ranking military officer wandered around his room, picking up objects randomly and staring at them like he were an old woman looking for a bargain at the flea markets, and all the while singing a little ditty to himself that sounded remarkably like 'poop, poop, poop' on a never-ending loop.

McKay groaned into his hands and exchanged a meaningful glance with the room's other visitor. Meaghan Monahan, who was sitting perched on the edge of Rodney's desk with a pen dangling from her mouth, wearing a black singlet with the word _'anomaly'_ printed on it in big white letters, and jeans that were torn not for fashionable reasons but simply because they were plain-old worn out, put down the pile of papers that she had been editing for him, and returned his glance. Then she slipped from his desk and padded barefoot out of his quarters to go and let the Head of Security that his boss had gotten himself well and truly plastered.

Which left Rodney to try and _not_ watch as John went drunkenly through all his possessions and sang his stupid ditty over and over and over again. He almost managed to ignore him until the well-marinated voice suddenly broke off it's 'poop, poop, pooping' and said, 'Nice watch, Rodney, buddy.'

McKay glanced at him in horror, saw what he was holding, and said, 'Put. That. Down.' He spoke in a very slow voice, not wanting to startle the Colonel in case he dropped it. John glanced at him, pretended to let it fall to the floor, and then only just managed to catch it again since his motor-skills were rather off the ball. McKay swore, threw caution to the winds and tried to snatch it from the C.O. 'For God's sake, Sheppard, leave that alone unless you plan on taking up time travelling. Seriously, it's a grown-up's toy, okay? And you are definitely over the legal limit for operating machinery.'

Somehow, his words must have penetrated into the drunken slosh that was John's grey cells. 'Time travel?' he asked, slightly slurred, and then was hit by a three-sheets-to-the-wind beam of inspiration. Okay, so it didn't appear in his brain quite so clearly, but the rough idea was this: if I go back in time, I can _not_ go off-world, and _not_ play around, and _not_ upset Elizabeth. More or less those were his thoughts, anyway. And even as McKay lunged to stop him, he twiddled the dial.

* * *

About five seconds later Meaghan reappeared with a lieutenant at her side. To her surprise the room was empty. She glanced around, trying to work out where the men had gotten to, and wondering if Rodney would be able to get himself out of John's drunken clutches. Then her lungs froze. A spot on the shelf was bare. Why was _that _spot bare? She knew what McKay kept there. The time travelling thingy. 

'Oh, crap,' she said, and suddenly felt a headache coming on, 'What is it with those two?'


	2. Will You Ever Forgive Me If I Kill You

**Will You Ever Forgive Me If I Kill You?**

Rodney sits on the cold bench in their cell and watches as Sheppard rests his head against the bars and does a good impersonation of a depressed cocker-spaniel. Rodney prefers not to think about Sheppard. Actually, he prefers not to think about anything at all - which is why he is rocking back and forth and muttering slightly to himself in the hope that it might numb his brain. He doesn't _want _to think. Not about where they are. Not about how they got there. Not about the things he's seen en routeOh, God, particularly not about the things he's seen en route! If he lets himself think, he'll probably end up killing Sheppard and so far he has made it an aim in life never to kill a colleague. Well, not in cold blood at any rate; not on purpose. But he is awfully, awfully close to it now. He keeps his hands locked together and rocks like a mental patient.

It's not working very well though. It's like the thoughts are simply _determined_ to work their way into his consciousness. Like he can't stop them. He thinks about Meaghan and what she must have thought to find the room empty. He thinks about the look that would have been on her face if she had had the brains to realise that the time watch was missing.

He blinks as he suddenly realises that Sheppard is in front of him and shaking him by the shoulders. 'McKay!' he's shouting, 'Snap out it, buddy, I need your brain. I know you're in there somewhere.'

For some inexplicable reason, the thought of that irritating woman, and the sound of Sheppard's voice combined are just too much for him. He heaves himself to his feet and shoves Sheppard back with a forceful push that surprises both of them. 'Oh, I'm _here _alright!' he shouts, and waves a hand manically to encompass not just the cell but also the entire situation in which they find themselves, 'And whose fault is it that I'm here, eh? Yours! Your fault, you - you - you beer drinking, non-thinking, kirking maniac! If you could keep your pants on while you're off-world, and your hands off tech that has nothing to do with you, we wouldn't be here! And then to make that stupid, stupid, _stupid_ deal with that stupid, stupid, _stupid_ man! Who makes a deal like that, huh? And _now _to top it all off, you expect me, _me _to get you out of this! Well, not this time Sheppard. Even I can't fix this one.'

Sheppard is looking at him desperately, 'But don't you see, I have to get back to tell her I'm sorry!'

McKay shrugs, 'Yeah? Well you know what? Hard luck.' And he starts the rocking-and-muttering routine again.

He wonders if anyone will care if he doesn't come back. If anyone will miss him. Not his brain, that they would miss that was a given, but actually him. Rodney.

* * *

McKay had completed his lunge for the time watch that John held in his drunken hands, missed, and landed flat on the floor. He glanced down in surprise. _Why _was the floor of his quarters wet? And then his heart sunk further than it had sunken in a rather long time - and that, believe you me, was no mean feat - as he struggled up and stared around himself. 

They were no longer in Atlantis.

Correction.

They were no longer in the Atlantis that he had ever seen. He rather imagined it was what the city would look like after it had been abandoned for a few hundred years and then hit by a couple of those mother-of-all-storm storms. He swore faintly and looked around for John. The trouble that that idiot caused...

The Colonel had started his 'poop, poop, poop' song again and was traipsing merrily around without a care in the world. McKay groaned to himself. He knew that he needed to get that device out of his drunken, brainless hands before it got broken, or worse, activated and left him stranded here on his own. Besides, he wanted to see what time this was. Wanted to check that he would never have to experience it in his 'real' timeline.

Because the city in which they stood was a twisted, nightmarish caricature of itself. The floor was eaten away by salt, leaving large gaping holes. All around them, metal beams and the remains of walls curved at strange angles. It was what Atlantis would look like if you gave it to some under-paid-artist-with-a-vendetta-against-the-world to work with. It was all highly disturbing and to make matters worse, when he looked over the edge, he could see the sea lapping not more than a foot away. Which was frightening, and against the laws of logic, since his quarters were no where near the ocean.

Salty air whipped through his hair as he watched John bob around cheerfully. He couldn't even begin to understand why the city was still even _partly_ afloat. And then suddenly decided that perhaps it was better not to know, and just begged the universe at large to let it stay that way.

Damn John! Of all the stupid things! Why couldn't he keep his hands off things that weren't his? And now -- oh, crap. He'd lost sight of him.

'Colonel!' McKay shouted, 'Sheppard, where the hell are you?'

John appeared from behind a pylon, the time watch still gripped firmly in his hands. 'Hiya, Rodders! What kinda weird place is this then?'

And thus begun what ended up as quite literally an entire hour of McKay and John running around the city like complete idiots, all the time McKay desperately trying to get the device off John who seemed determined that he shouldn't have it. Drunk as he might have been - though admittedly, the brisk sea air seemed to be sobering him up - he was still faster and more agile than the scientist. And distinctly more foolhardy.

By the time McKay finally snatched the watch from his hands, he was brick-red in the face and absolutely furious.

'You are the _most-'_ he couldn't think of an insult awful enough, not even amongst the parade of new expletives he'd picked up by osmosis from Meaghan, and so simply pushed John viciously into the ocean.

That seemed to be the last step in the sobering-up process. It was possible, thought McKay suspiciously, that he hadn't really been as drunk as he'd made out.

He watched without the least glimmer of sympathy as John gasped for breath in the freezing water and then eventually managed to haul himself back up onto the foundations. He lay on the hard floor and gasped like a fish. McKay continued to ignore him heartlessly, and was busy inspecting the time watch for any sign of damage. Thank god that _idiot_ hadn't managed to break it. Sadly, however, he wasn't totallysure how it worked yet, and it wasn't as though the dates were in English, and so he'd simply have to do his best. Glaring at Sheppard, he put his foot in the middle of the man's chest so that they would both travel, and then turned the watch's dial.


	3. What Did You Say Your Name Was

_A/N: Okay... so indulge me already! This chapter just kind of demanded to be written, though I know it's sooooo predicable! Just deal with it!_

* * *

**Hang On -- _What _Did You Say Your Name Was...?? **

John bangs his head lightly against the bars a few times. He's sick of McKay, sick of the cell, and most of all sick of himself. And then, suddenly, just like that, it hits him. Bam! Like a bolt from the blue, hope lights up brighter than the Vegas nightscape.

'McKay!' he shouts in delight. Maybe his change of tone gets through to Rodney, or maybe he's just sick of the whole rocking-and-humming-routine, because he glances up and says grumpily, 'What now? Can't you let me starve to death in peace?'

John isn't listening. He actually dances slightly on the spot. 'McKay, I have _proof _that we get out of this mess!'

McKay, it's clear, doesn't believe him. 'Oh yes, and what might that be? The old I-wrote-myself-a-note trick?'

John nods enthusiastically, 'Well, sort of!'

He can see that he has the scientist's attention now. Maybe not his whole and undivided attention, but it's better than nothing.

'The kids!' the Colonel shouts. McKay's face darkens, but he shouts on anyway, 'The reports, the kids!'

Rodney holds up a hand and looks firm, 'You _promised_ you would never mention that again. You promised on pain of death. I might not be military, Sheppard, but believe me when I tell you I can think up some pretty intriguing ways for you to die. Perhaps even multiple deaths.'

John ignores him blissfully, 'The kids said that we wrote reports and that's how they knew we were coming.' He pauses, and then actually slaps himself in the forehead, 'God, even more obvious are the kids themselves. I mean talk about staring me in the face. Obviously we get back, else they can't be there in the future to meet us. Especially in your case.' He glances McKay, every ounce of his normal good-humour restored with his realisation that they must somehow make it back to their own time, and adds slyly, 'Unless there's something you're not telling me...'

McKay looks supremely sour and decides that humming was a better option.

Still. He has to admit that John is right. The kids _are _proof that they return.

Even if they scare the living daylights out of him.

* * *

John opened his eyes and moaned. His head hurt. Hell, his whole body hurt. He was wet, and had salt water up his nose, and McKay was standing on him. He grabbed the offending leg, and shoved it off, then moaned and managed to sit up and look around. 

Atlantis.

The gateroom.

And a smattering of mostly young-looking people at the railing near the steps, observing them curiously.

McKay was studying the watch with a concerned expression on his face.

Groaning, John pressed his hand against the floor and managed to push himself to his feet. He felt like he'd been dropped out of the back of a moving pick-up truck. Truly. This was shades of Thanksgiving-at-his-cousin-Geoff's-place all over again. Only, he was drenched to boot. He looked at the staring people and they all hurried off to do something else as though they hadn't _really_ been looking. He thought that some of them seemed vaguely familiar, but his brain was still much too groggy to focus on it.

McKay, whose faculties were understandably much clearer, was watching as a young man and an even younger woman - just a girl, really - came up the steps to where they stood. The man, who could only have been in his very early twenties, had a shock of dark curls and was dressed in standard air force uniform. The girl wore civilian clothes and was astonishingly pretty, but McKay had neither the time nor the inclination to worry his head about pretty girls, and without studying them any closer demanded, 'What year is this?'

The man raised his eyebrows, 'Well, hello to you too, Doctor McKay. You never mentioned that you were rude to us.'

The girl grinned, 'Are you actually _surprised_, Jeb? And besides, I'd be rude too if I'd just been zoomed into the future after he -' she pointed at John '- had make such a drunken twit of himself.'

Jeb looked cross, 'Well, it wasn't exactly his fault.'

She sniggered, 'Of _course_ it was his fault. Don't think I don't know the whole story. He was off cheating on yo-'

The boy elbowed her roughly and she shut up, glaring.

McKay stared from one of them to the other. His eyes had slightly narrowed. There was _something _about the pair of them but - 'Well? he demanded, 'You obviously know who we are and so that means, I presume, that we are still in our future. But you haven't answered me. What year?'

'2031, by Earth reckoning,' answered the girl.

'2031. And who are you? It's charming to see from your uniforms that us Earthlings are still happening around here, but what's with the youth thing? Is Atlantis run by teenagers in twenty years time? I'd like to talk to some grown-ups.'

The girl arched her eyebrows and said, 'Well, isn't that charming. As to who we are, I'm Jeannie, and this is Jeb.'

'Really? I have a sister called Jeannie. But seriously, the adults?'

But it was at that point that John had finally had his fill of staring at the young military man, and said a little woozily, 'I know you.'

McKay looked down his nose at his friend and crossed his arms over his chest impatiently, 'No, you don't, Sheppard. She said 2031. He can't even have been born yet as far as we are concerned.'

John wasn't listening. 'No, seriously. I'm sure I know you.' He focused on the girl, and said, 'I _might _know you too.'

She grinned up at him, and he gave her one of his famously attractive smirks.

McKay groaned, 'Kirk, I marvel at your adaptability, but this is neither the time nor the place. And isn't that what got us into this mess?'

John _really _wasn't thinking straight yet, and elbowed Rodney in the ribs, and said, 'You should loosen up a little, buddy. She's a very pretty girl. What'd you say your name was again?'

She repeated it with an even broader smile, and Jeb stared at her in disgust. Honestly, that girl and her sisters were absolutely bloody hopeless. _Incurably_ hopeless.

'Seriously, Sheppard,' complained Rodney.

The girl's eyes rolled at his tone, and she said, 'Of course, if my father knew you were looking at me like that, he'd have your guts for garters.' And she chuckled and shot them both a curious look.

McKay shrugged at her and looked around. 'So, you know about us, we're in the future, all just grand. But now can you _please_ take me to somebody who knows what's going on, preferable myself if I'm still here, and we'll see if we can get this stupid watch a little more fine-tuned so that there is _some_ hope of us getting home.'

Jeb shook his head, 'All the 'adults', as you put it, have gone to the mainland for a huge Athosian gathering. And it was _you _who suggested that it would be better if you didn't meet yourselves or too many people that you already knew well in case it, ah, disturbed you.'

Jeannie grinned, 'Actually, _in case it sends Sheppard barking mad _were his exact words, I believe. And of course, you only remember meeting us... it gets complicated around that point.'

McKay was getting the distinct impression that there was something they weren't telling them. But it was John who managed to put his finger on it.

'You,' he said and pointed at the young man, 'Never told us your whole name.'

The boy glanced at Jeannie, then answered with the smirk of someone who knows he's about to get a big kick out of something, 'Lieutenant Jebediah Weir-Sheppard, sir.' He clapped his feet together, and actually saluted, and all the while his eyes were positively brimming with mischief.

It was at that point that John suddenly found himself sitting on the steps. He wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten there, but it had been one helluva drop. He gaped up at the kid a few times and then let a wide-eyed McKay help him to his feet. The kids were grinning like Cheshire cats, and McKay kept saying in an astounded voice, 'You got Elizabeth pregnant? My God, he gets Elizabeth pregnant.'

John was still starting. 'Lieutenant _Weir-Sheppard_?' he repeated dumbly.

Jeannie rolled her eyes, 'You know, I always said your father's intelligence was over-rated.'

Jeb glared at her, but before she could speak again, the Colonel managed, 'Are you saying that Elizabeth and I-'

The young man - his son!! - nodded, 'Married. Yes. Eventually.'

John was still blinking, 'And named you _Jebediah??_'

Jeannie laughed and the boy shifted awkwardly, 'Actually you let Mom choose. Oh, and you act surprised at the choice by the way.'

He was still processing it, but muttered, 'I bet I do.'

Jeannie kept grinning, 'Priceless. It's like the whole, Luke-I-am-your-father-thing, but backwards.' Then she wrinkled her nose, 'You know you never mention our names in your reports. You describe us, but that's it. Why'd you do that? I've been meaning to ask.'

John felt light headed, 'Probably because if I went back _right_ _now_, and told Elizabeth in a briefing that we were gunna get married and make babies, she'd run so fast that you'd vanish out of existence faster than Marty McFly.'

'Actually,' started the girl, 'If you look at the general concept of the time continuum-' But she broke off when she realised John was staring at her with a look of panic in his eyes, 'Oh, god,' he said, 'You're not my daughter are you?'

She pulled a disgusted face, 'What do you take me for? You think I'd smile like that at my own _father_? Ew. No, I'm the person whose here to fine tune that watch as best as can be done - it really is a lousy model - so that it's at least a little better.'

McKay looked doubtful, 'I'm not sure-' he began, but she stomped a foot and said, 'I _know _what I'm doing!'

But to Rodney's immense irritation, John butted in yet again. 'So, if all the adults are hiding from us on the mainland, who's in charge here? You?' He looked at the kid proudly. Hot damn! He was going to be a father one day. It was a kind of impressive thought.

The boy shook his head, 'Are you kidding? You don't think Mom would put a _lieutenant _in charge of her city, do you, even if he is her son. No, she's given Aggie the reins. Admittedly, she probably is the most capable.' His face went just a tad dreamy.

John looked at him curiously, 'Cute girl?'

Jeannie grinned, 'Are you _kidding_? God, Jeb's been drawling over Aggie Beckett since ever I can remember, even if she can and does regularly beat the crap out of him.'

'Beckett??' exclaimed John.

McKay made a loud and invasive coughing noise. 'Yes, yes, all this happy-families stuff is really touching, but I would much prefer to get back to my own time as soon as possible, _if _you don't mind.'

Jeannie rolled her eyes, 'Well, some things never change.' She took the watch, and fiddled adeptly with it. McKay looked grudgingly impressed when he took it back and admitted, 'Well done, I think.'

She grinned smugly, 'Genius runs in the family.'

Something in her tone finally got through to his brain because he froze, and looked at her cautiously. 'I'm not sure I want to ask this but - do I know your parents?'

Jeb started grinning, and whispered, 'This should be good.'

The girl nodded.

'And your whole name is...?'

'Jeannie Alathea McKay,' she responded proudly, and then positively collapsed into a fit of laughter at his expression, 'Oh god, that really _is_ priceless. It's so great knowing how longed for you were!!'

McKay might have tumbled down the stairs if the two Sheppard men hadn't caught his arms.

'But - but - but I never planned on having kids. Another cat perhaps, but - but kids?'

She rolled her eyes, and glanced at Jeb, 'She _said_ he'd say that.'

He smirked, 'Your Mum knows him too well.'

McKay opened and shut his mouth, '-- but who --?'

She grinned again, 'She forbade me to tell you. My lips are sealed.'

Then she twiddled the dial and darted swiftly back out of range.


	4. Could'a, Would'a, Should'a

_A/N: this chapter sort of - I dunno, maybe - contains spoilers for some episodes in Season One (The Rising, The Storm, Before I Sleep). Now I seriously can't imagine that you are reading SGA fan fiction and haven't watched them. But anyway... _

_

* * *

_

**Could'a, Would'a, Should'a**

John is in a cheerful mood. He can't believe that he's been so stupid not to think of it before. _Of course_ they get out! He has a son! And McKay's daughter was _way _too young for him already to have gotten someone knocked up, even apart from the fact that John couldn't imagine who the scientist would find to play the maternal role! Twenty-three years in their future, they'd said, and she couldn't have been more than seventeen. He glances at McKay with a grin. He's almost glad that the scientist has clammed up incurably about the kids. He'd made a helluva scene at first. And now that the optimism is running back through John's veins, it is all so clear to him. They _must _get back. Elizabeth _must _forgive him. How the hell has it taken him this long to put two and two together?

He grins, and starts to randomly whistle the tune from _Oklahoma. _

The cell doesn't look so bad any more.

* * *

McKay had still been opening and shutting his mouth in horrified shock when they reached their new destination-in-time. John caught him by the shoulders, shoved him behind the railings, and ducked out of sight himself. 

'I have a daughter,' the physicist was muttering repeatedly, 'I have a daughter. How the hell does that happen?'

John rolled his eyes in irritation, 'The traditional way, I'd expect. Unless you do some kind of weird test-tube thing, which would at least explain how a kid you play a part in creating could be so damn pretty.' It was a mistake to mention her looks, and he regretted it the moment the words slipped from his mouth. Suddenly a light went on inside Rodney's brain and he turned on John and exclaimed accusingly, 'You were kirking my _daughter_!'

The Colonel hissed at him and pushed him back down, 'Would you shut up? Get mad about that some other time. I'm trying to work out what the hell is going on here - and when we are.'

McKay blinked, muttered, and looked down into the gateroom.

Familiar men and women, in familiar uniforms - military and civilian alike - scurried back and forth with concerned looks on their faces. All around them were piled high towers of cartons and crates. John saw himself standing near the gate, which was a very strange experience. But then he spotted someone he knew, someone whose face haunted him at nights, someone he had never expected to lay eyes on again this side of hell.

_Sumner. _

And then he knew when they were. They had just arrived in Atlantis from Earth. They were about to go through the stargate.

Through the stargate to find an Alpha site because they believed, wrongly, that the city was about to flood.

Through the stargate to Athos.

Through the stargate to set in motion a whole chain of events that would lead to Sumner's death - lead to the premature awakening of the Wraith - lead to every single one of their problems.

He stood up and opened his mouth to shout out that they didn't have to worry, that there was a failsafe. McKay grappled him roughly and struggled to pull him down, 'Are you _mad_?' he hissed.

John stared at him. 'But we can fix it all, fix it like that alternate Weir did.'

McKay shook his head, 'Do you think I like it any more than you do? But you have to let it go, Sheppard. Just get back to our own time. No meddling.' And before John could speak again, before John could interfere like he was so obviously about to, McKay twiddled the dial on the watch again.

Nobody had ever even known they were there.

Except a very astonished Kate Heightmeyer, who stood stock still staring at where they had been just heartbeats ago, and then down at the John in the gateroom. She decided that as the only psychologist on the expedition, she had picked an awfully inconvenient time to lose it - and hurried off to rummage in her bag for a pill to pop.

* * *

John and Rodney looked around. Gateroom. Atlantis. But it was eerily empty and McKay kept glancing at the watch to check they were still heading in the right direction and hadn't over calculated. 'I don't know,' he admitted in grudging confusion, 'We should by rights be relatively close. I mean, I know in the scheme of things that 'relatively close' contains a pretty big margin of error, but -' he stopped, and both of them stared fixedly at the same thing. 

One of the Genii, patrolling the space beneath them.

'My God,' said John.

McKay nodded unhappily. Either they were way off and the Genii took over one day or -

'The _storm_.'

For a moment they stayed where they were, squatting in silence. Of all the times to turn up in.

Lightening flashed and the gateroom glowed blue.

'C'mon, genius,' said John, 'Get us out of here. I have no desire to live this one through again.'

But McKay was looking in the direction of the control room with a thoughtful expression on his face, his fingers rubbing almost unconsciously at the scar that the Genii had left on him that day. 'We could just...'

John stared at him, 'You won't let me save Sumner and make sure that the Wraith don't wake up for another good fifty years, but you will go and stop yourself from getting _hurt_?! Of all the selfish -'

But before he could finish that sentence, a pair of enormous hands gripped both their heads, slammed them together with impressive force, and the world went black. Not from time travel, just from being knocked unconscious in the old fashioned way. The gigantic man to whom the hands belonged dusted his fingers off, clucked to himself at a job well done, and then flicked something on the gaunlet circling his left arm - and this time three people vanished.

The Genii solider in the gateroom was gapng up in astonishment. He had just seen Sheppard, and McKay, and a massive -

But it didn't really matter what he'd seen, because even as his hand touched his radio, the John Sheppard for whom he was _supposed _to be keeping an eye out appeared behind him. And a second later, he was in no position to tell anyone anything.

John glanced around, wondered vaguely what the guy had been staring at, and then hurried on his way. He had a city to save.


	5. Interval

**INTERVAL **

**"With regards to time, an interval or period is the duration between two events or occurrences of similar events. It is related to the mathematical concept of interval in that the interval contains all the points of time between the two events" **

**- wikipedia. **

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**

_A/N (correction: this isn't a note, it's an epic): _

_Yes. An interval. And no, I don't mean that in a cinematic sense. I am **not** giving you permission to trot off and buy popcorn and maltesers instead of reading this chapter. Not that it's like I could stop you if that was what you really wanted to do. Nor, for that matter, is it even as though I would know that you'd done it! _

_It is just a little possible that this whole fan fiction thing has gone slightly to my head. _

_Just slightly._

_Oh, and I don't mean interval in the cricket sense either. Not that I know anything even remotely about cricket, to all my fellow-countrymen's shame, I'm sure. But I do think they have intervals somewhere in there. Maybe._

_Anyway, I mean it in the most literal sense - a break. Oh, go and read the quote at the top of the page already. Yup. That's what I mean. You see, I'm of the opinion that it's all well and good to sit and watch Sheppard and McKay in this prison cell of theirs (wherever that is) and play out the tale of how (why?) they ended up there. All very interesting I'm sure. _

_But haven't you asked yourself how everyone is coping with their absence?_

_Now - I know this is the point where all the people who are much smarter than I am, and who actually know something about the whole concept of time travel, start shouting 'but surely they'll just turn up an instant after they left!'_

_Well, that's all fine and dandy, but I don't see why they have to. I mean, I know that's what always happens when you use a time travel device (yeah -- such a frequent __occurrence_), but seriously, does it look to you as though they have this thing that fine-tuned? You seriously believe that they could judge it right and appear before a still-gaping Meaghan **and** in the same spot just to top it off? What do you think this is, organised?

_Nope. _

_And so would you please just believe me when I tell you that not only do Rodney and John experience 36 hours of life, but **coincidentally** they also happen to reappear 36 hours after they left._

_Hey, don't look at me like that -- you can't seriously consider me telling you that a spoiler! I mean, the fact that somehow, eventually, they get back , honestly, that's a given. Seriously, where did you have your brain? And besides, like John said, there're the children. Now I suppose we could attempted a Marty McFly thing here (again, to quote John), but first that pulls my brain into knots the moment I start down that path, and secondly -- I think I'll quit while I'm ahead. After all, I'm just a dopey humanities undergrad. _

_So! Accept it! They get back to Atlantis (**stop** looking at me like that, I tell you, it's not a spoiler, you already knew it! Have I ever had a nasty ending to any of my stories? No -- well -- not yet! Well, this one is gunna be happy! Happy, I tell you, because at the moment my life is crammed with happiness and I tend to write what I am! So there.)_

_And sooooo finally to repeat my question, aren't you just even vaguely curious to know how everyone else is doing? Not just even a little?_

_Well - you, the person who shook your head, don't think I didn't see you, can just go and read something else then and come back next chapter. And as for all the rest of you extraordinary people who have actually, incredibly, put up with all this utter nonsense to read this far (very, very brave people!!), this is the story of those left behind. Well, just a little tiny peek. And that's why it's called an interlude. (Although total rubbish would be an alternate title...!) So... _

_

* * *

_

**Elizabeth **

Elizabeth sits in the dark. She's got her knees drawn to her chin and hugs her legs. The bed beneath her seems very large with only her perched in the middle of it. She wonders vaguely if she oughtn't get up and switch the light on. She can't be bothered. Somehow, the dark seems appropriate. She almost manages to smile at that thought, realises that it's like when you're a little kid and you're crying in desperation but can still take the time to glance in the mirror to see what tragedy looks like.

But the dark _does _seem appropriate.

She hasn't hurt this much for years. Even when Simon said he'd had enough, it hadn't hurt this much. The pain is knit amongst her bones and swims along beneath the surface of her skin. It chokes her up till she can't talk. She's left somebody else in charge – she doesn't want her people to see her in this state. Her eyes are red and circled in shadows. Her fine, pale skin has gone a slightly-bruised shade. She doesn't sleep.

She hates him so much for what he did.

But she's terrified she might never see him again. Terrified that they'll have parted on that note.

Terrified he'll never come back and tell her that it was all a mistake and that it's her he loves.

* * *

**Meaghan **

She sits at his desk and spins the chair around, keeping herself moving with little pushes of her fingertips as she turns. The Head of Security, who is inspecting the room as though McKay and the Colonel might be hiding in a cupboard just to annoy everyone, gives her the occasional odd glance. She waggles her toes at him and he looks back to what he's doing. She watches wordlessly as he opens and shuts draws, picks things up, lifts the covers of the mussed-up bed as though they might perhaps be hiding there. He really is the most ridiculous thing that she's seen in a long time.

She spins a little faster. Finally, he shrugs to himself, mutters something in her direction, and exits with the door sliding shut behind him. She grabs the edge of the desk and pulls the chair to such a sudden halt that it jars her shoulder. She stands up, gathers together the pile of papers she was editing. The vast majority of the science content goes way over her head, but she's good at deciphering foreign things and knows McKay is grudgingly impressed at how fast she's learning - though he would never admit it. But then, you don't need to understand something to correct its grammar.

She hugs the papers to her chest and then goes and makes the bed, smoothing down the covers. It irritates him when she touches his stuff, but she finds tidying therapeutic. He always sniggers at that, makes pointed comments about how it contrasts with her personal appearance.

She wonders why, if it's a time travelling device, he hasn't reappeared by now.

* * *

**Honey-Eyes **

A girl with remarkable yellow eyes sits on a stump near the stargate and thinks deeply. She knows she'll never see him again, despite the thoughtless promises he made when he was lying in her arms. She's not _that _naive; she knows he didn't mean then. But on the other hand, she can't help but wish that he might've.

She sighs. She knows it was stupid. She's spent the last few days listening to her mother scream at her about it.

But then she grins slowly. Even if she does never see him again, it was worth it.


	6. I'm Sorry, I Think I Misheard

**I'm Sorry, I Think I Misheard... **

Both men sit on the cold bench. John has a glint in his eyes that McKay doesn't approve of, but at least the Colonel hasn't dared mention their offspring again. McKay has made it very clear that if he does, he'll personally make _sure _that John is incapable of fatherhood, and time paradox be damned. Since John can't think of anything else to talk about, and Rodney refuses to, they sit in silence. And so they can hear the footsteps long before they see the two men making them. Rodney groans. Not again

'Can't you let us languish in peace?' He demands as they appear with their arrogant, self-confident faces.

But to his delight, they have brought food.

One of the men smiles, and McKay actually nods back. Food!

Maybe John is right and things _are_ looking up.

* * *

This time, when John opened his eyes, he was neither in the gateroom nor - as far as he could tell - any other part of Atlantis, and an ugly man with incredibly bad breath was leaning over him with an expression that John wasn't sure he was in the mental state to deal with. Rodney sat next to him with a puzzled-cranky-confused face, rubbing the lump on his head. 

'What the hell d'you think yer doin?' The man demanded, then looked them up and down in a distinctly demeaning way, and snorted, 'Who're yer supposed to be, anyway?'

John struggled to his feet, and, as an afterthought, helped up Rodney. 'Sheppard,' he answered, 'Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. And that's Doctor Rodney McKay.'

The man peered at them thoughtfully, and murmured, 'Is that so?' Apparently, incredibly, their names were familiar to him, but John was pretty sure he'd remember if he'd ever met this guy. Then the big fella shrugged slightly, 'My name's Ghideon, and I'm only gunna ask my first question one more time... what the hell d'you think yer doing? I mean, working another man's patch is bad enough. But drawing attention to yerself like that!'

John rubbed his head, 'I have no idea what you're talking about.'

Ghideon looked at them curiously. John was too busy feeling his bruise, but McKay stared defiantly right back.

'Yer for real, aren't yer?' The huge man asked.

McKay looked pained.

Ghideon burst into a veritable guffaw of laughter, 'Gods, wanderin' round like babes in the woods.. If they was to catch yer you'd look mighty stupid, even if youse _are _Sheppard and McKay.' He pause, 'And as for that there time-device - where'd yer get a Mark One anyway? Bloody antique, mates.'

He tapped the watch on his own arm and grinned proudly, 'Now, _this _sweetheart, she might've put me back a bit, but she's been worth every ounce.'

Both McKay and John were staring around at their surroundings. It was, from all appearances, a miskempt little shack crammed full of all sorts of miscellaneous odds and bobs. From tech to what looked an awful lot like - John leant over and snatched something up, 'This is my lucky pocket-knife! I've been looking for that for months! How the hell did it get here?'

'Stole it,' answered the man smugly.

McKay and Sheppard stared, 'You _stole _it?'

'Of course. I'm a time thief.'

McKay's face brightened unexpectedly, 'Seriously? Like in the book I'm reading!'

John made a mental pause, and stared at him, 'You read books?'

McKay, highly insulted, crossed his arms over his chest, 'When the mood takes me.'

The Colonel looked astonished, 'So what's this book you're reading then?'

Suddenly McKay dropped his arms to his side, looked embarrassed, and muttered something.

'Huh?'

McKay muttered a little louder, '_Momo._'

John looked thoughtful, 'Isn't that book by that dude who wrote _The Never Ending Story_? My cousin worshipped that guy - hang on though, isn't that a kids' book? You're reading a kids' book?'

McKay had gone slightly red, and he muttered again, staring at his feet, 'Meaghan made me.'

'Meaghan made you? Since when does anyonemake _you_ do any- heeeeyyy,' he suddenly grinned, 'you haven't got a bit of you know going on there have you?' He winked and smirked and made a vague hand motion that could have been interpreted in various ways depending on how scurrilous the viewer's mind was.

McKay glared at him.

Another thought struck John, 'Hey, come to think of it, I know I was pretty plastered, but - wasn't she there in your quarters?'

'She was proof-reading an article, if you must know. She does a better job than the computer.'

'She _proof-reads _your articles for you?' John chuckled, 'Man, McKay, it must be love.'

Rodney bunched his hands and made humming noises.

'McKay, buddy, you can tell me...'

He hummed louder, and actually stuck his fingers in his ears, 'I can't hear you...'

Ghideon, meanwhile, was staring at them doubtfully. It seemed that they had forgotten he was there. He glanced at McKay, and asked, 'Um... you _are_ supposed to be a genius, right?'

McKay stopped humming and nodded.

The enormous man turned to John, 'And, er, you _are_ a great warrior?'

John grinned and shrugged and patted his sidearm.

Ghideon frowned and thought hard. 'Well... I was just checking.' But he didn't look particularly convinced. Somehow he'd been expecting something - different. In fact, very different.

But at that moment, McKay's eyes opened wide in outrage, and he scrambled up over a pile of junk and lifted something out of a string bag, the orange type that you buy onions in. 'Is _this _from Atlantis?' He demanded, and waved the shiny new ZPM slightly hysterically.

Ghideon shrugged, 'Of course. Everything here is from that _where,_ just not all the same _when.'_

McKay clambered back, too infuriated to talk, the ZPM in its onion bag clutched possessively to his chest. John started rummaging in the crate where his pocket-knife had been. A very mouldy sandwich in a plastic zip-lock bag... some _Monty Python _DVDs... hairpins... one new sneaker... a laptop... socks... bunches of keys... stained coffee mugs... a selection of jewellery... a carton of test-tubes... in fact a whole mess of stuff including - John picked up the fluffy pink handcuffs and asked curiously, 'Whose room did you nick these from?'

McKay jumped in front of him, banged the cuffs impatiently out of his hand and, still clutching the ZPM like it was his long-lost brother (or, come to think of it, rather more tenderly then he would hug a long-lost-brother), exclaimed, 'The more pressing questions are, how do you know who we are, what do you want with us, and can you help us get back to our own time?'

John realised he was right, and the two men looked at the thief expectantly.


	7. Partners In Crime

**Partners In Crime **

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* * *

**

_John and McKay eat quickly, as though half-suspicious that the men might change their minds and take the food back off them. It isn't exactly gormet, not even by Altantis mess-hall standards, but then they **are** prisoners._

_One of the men who has brought the food nods formally at his companion, and then walks swiftly away, footsteps ringing. As soon as he is out of earshot, the second man leans closer to the bars and says eagerly, 'Tell me, are you **really** from the future?' The accent he speaks with is broad, but it's familiar enough Ancient for them to understand him. Still, John and McKay blink at each other as though they have maybe misunderstood. They stop eating and look at him. This guy seems different than the others have been. He's a whole lot more laid-back, and his eyes are gleaming with curiosity as he faces them._

_John puts down his spoon, smiles slowly, and said, 'Well, yeah, actually...'_

_The Lantean man grins, wraps his hands around the bars, and says, 'My name is Janis.'_

* * *

Ghideon had just looked at their expectant faces, then rubbed the side of his nose thoughtfully and said, 'Well now... them's a lot of questions to be asking a man all at once.' 

McKay sneered, 'Three is hardly -'

John elbowed him so hard in the ribs that he almost lost hold of his ZPM, and said reprovingly, 'Let the man think, Rodney, and keep your foot out of your mouth. Do you want to go home, or what?'

After a few minutes the huge thief smiled and said, 'Well, first, I know yer because I know just about everything about the _where _what's my patch. Makes sense to know about it. And some people stand out, and it makes sense to keep an eye on them. Youse're like that. The sort of people what might lead a fella to some interesting goods.'

John half-smirked, pretty sure that there was a compliment in there somewhere, but McKay just shrugged impatiently. 'Fine, accepting that - and you have_ no idea_ how much my acceptance threshold has risen in the last few hours - the question still remains, can you get us home?'

Ghideon frowned. 'I would've left youse where yer were, except for all the attention youse were attracting. I mean, what's it to me the pickles yer get into? But -' he paused, looked them up and down, 'I think we could come to an agreement like.'

John's boot crunched down hard on Rodney's foot before he could open his mouth, and the Colonel smiled and asked smoothly, 'So, what did you have in mind?'

McKay scowled darkly. Big stupid giants who stole ZPMs were _not _the kind of people he wanted to be making deals with. It would all end in tears. Probably his own.

'Well,' answered Ghideon, 'Even my beauty of a watch can only carry a certain amount of weight. And you can only use one watch at a time per head like. It restricts me, see, the size of things I can haul. It's a common problem, cause we work alone, so no-one's snagged the most coveted prize yet. But if _youse_ had a watch each, and then together...' He stared into the distance for a moment as his brain tried ponderously to calculate if it would work. Then his face split into a watermelon-grin. 'Yes,' he exclaimed, 'All three of us, a watch each, and we'd move her no trouble.'

McKay smiled to himself. Suddenly the plan didn't sound so bad. The minute the idiot gave them a better-functioning watch each, they could just zap themselves out of there and he could find himself someone else to play with.

'Of course,' added the time thief as an after-thought, 'You'd not be able to use the watches without me, cause I'd have the master-pin.'

The Canadian's face fell.

'What was it you were planning on stealing...?' asked John slowly.

Ghideon rummaged in his mind for the exact term that people from their _when_ used for it. Then he smiled, and said, 'A puddlejumper.'

For a nanosecond, silence.

Then McKay's jaw dropped. Sheppard raised his eyebrows rather like Elizabeth would have, and repeated, 'A puddlejumper?... When you say 'puddlejumper', you mean the great big metal things that fly, right?'

Ghideon nodded serenely. McKay and Sheppard exchanged a mute glance. Then, 'Not one of ours, I hope.'

The big man grinned, 'Nah. One of those smarmy bastards' ones. They get up my noses so much, I'd love to see the expressions on their faces when they lose a puddlejumper to mid-space.'

They exchanged another look, 'You're planning on stealing a jumper from the _Ancients_? The Lanteans, proper?'

'Sure. Sour, stuck-up lot that they are. Caught me red-handed once and were no end of rude, it took me months to get away. Months! I've had to avoid that _when _ever since. Ah, but I've wanted this for ages. If you help me, then I'll reset the watches so yer can use them and trot merrily back to your own _when._'

McKay was deeply disturbed at how amusing John seemed to be finding the concept.

'Sheppard...' he began querulously, but John just chuckled, 'What? Oh, come _on_, McKay. Haven't you ever, just once, wanted to play pirates a little?'

McKay rolled his eyes arrogantly, 'So you're Han Solo now as well as Kirk. Stupendous.'

John thumped him on the back, 'Look, how hard can it be? We duck in, grab this baby, then duck out again and the man sends us home. He gets his jumper, and I'm sure the Lanteans won't miss _one_, and I get to patch things up with Elizabeth. What can go wrong?'

McKay growled low.

Famous last words.


	8. If You'll Credit It

**If You'll Credit It...**

**

* * *

**

_McKay and John exchange a glance, then put their bowls on the floor and stand up at exactly the same time. It is stamped clear on their faces that they're processing the identical bundle of thoughts._

_'Janus,' repeats Sheppard, and looks first at the Lantean, then sideways at McKay, 'Isn't that...?'_

_McKay nods. 'Uh-huh. The guy who fishes Alternate _ _Elizabeth__ out of the deep blue sea and fixes our entire time line in our favour. Oh, yes, this could so work for us!' He is actually beaming as he adds, 'Time machine man, oh, yes...'_

_John chuckles a little in delight, and smacks his hand against the bars and crows, 'Jackpot!'_

_Janus simply stares at them, smiles pleasantly, and murmurs, 'I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about...'_

* * *

Apparently, Ghideon's devices could not only move through time, but also - to a limited extent - space. Which made sense, given that he'd managed to move them from the gateroom to his bowerbird's nest of a home. McKay had despaired of trying to reason with John, and now he found himself suddenly back in Atlantis, a few halls away from the jumper bay. Actually, they were _supposed _to be _in _the jumper bay, but apparently even his time watches weren't _that _exact.

Ghideon and Sheppard, who had grabbed McKay the moment he materialised, glared at him fiercely - as though it were _his _fault that the great big hulking idiot had made him arrive right in the middle of the hallway. Rodney glared right back at them, and thought he was probably lucky he hadn't arrived in the middle of the _wall_.

'Oh, for God's sake, Rodney,' hissed John in a warning voice, 'Watch what you're doing.'

'Oh, and I suppose that you ending up concealed nicely in the shadows was predetermined by something you did, hmm?' demanded Rodney. He was still in a rotten mood that they were even doing this.

John just grinned at him cheekily, and a few minutes later, when the coast was clear, they began a quick trot down towards the jumper bay. 'Just as well _we_ know the way, eh?' quipped the Colonel, but Ghideon simply slapped him on the back (with such force that the American almost slammed into a wall) and said, 'I know it better than you, but.'

The jumper bay was exactly as they remembered it, except perhaps a little more full and the puddlejumpers a little more shiny. McKay glanced at them indifferently, then glanced at the expression of longing on Sheppard's face and snorted, 'Oh, please. Can we just do this and go home already?'

But Sheppard was ignoring him and asked Ghideon, 'So which of these little ladies takes your fancy?'

Ghideon, who apparently was having trouble accepting that his dream had come true and they were really here and doing this, grinned at him and managed, 'Let's take a closer look...'

The two men glanced quickly around and then scampered across the bay and started running their hands lovingly over the two newest looking jumpers. McKay went more cautiously - which just proved, as far as he was concerned, that their whining at him earlier had been unjust - and then stood there incredulously while Sheppard and Ghideon discussed which of the two looked like it had seen less miles.

Perhaps if _they _hadn't been so busy inspecting the merchandise, and _he _hadn't been so busying complaining about their stupidity, they might have noticed that they suddenly had company. Very cross company. Of the Ancient variety.

Ghideon got away.

But _that _was how John and McKay ended up in a cell in Atlantis at the time of the Ancients...


	9. The Things You Forget!

_A/N: I don't know what evil muse prompted me to ever start screwing around with present tense in this story, because let me tell you I seriously, seriously regret it! Furthermore, the chapter before this one was horrible, sorry about that. Anyway, thanks to all the people who have ever reviewed (reviews are love) and who have actually put up with this story right to the bitter end. I'm not sure... I have this feeling that in a few months time I'm gunna get cranky with this it and re-edit it, because I can't help but think that I didn't end up doing my original idea full justice. But for the moment, this is the final chapter, because I'm about to leave the country and want to put you out of your misery rather than make you wait till October... Apologies and hugs in advance, Jen._

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**The Things You Forget...!**

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'Time machines,' repeats McKay, 'Your name's Janus, and you make time machines.'

The Lantean is still shaking his head, politely bemused. 'I honestly do not know what you could possibly mean. Certainly, I'll admit that I've always had a mild fascination for the subject, but it's been proven on a number of occasions that time travel is impossible. It's even been theorised-' then he blinks suddenly. 'Of course, if you are who you say you are, then...'

McKay rolls his yes, 'Trust me, we're living proof it's possible and all those who ever theorised against it can go and suck their toes on the issue. In the meantime, you _are_ the guy who fishes out Elizabeth, right?' He glances sideways at John, 'Maybe we're before that happens? ...Maybe it's a common name?'

The Lantean smiles, 'Hardly common. And you - you say I build time machines?'

'Well, do you or don't you?'

He looks puzzled, 'I have thought about it, certainly. But as I already said, I had believed it was impossible and then...' he shrugs in a pleasantly humble way, as though his own failings amuse him.

'No, no, no,' buts in McKay impatiently, 'You do build one, else Elizabeth can't use it. She travels back in time to your lifetime, while we all die. And you help her, save her life, and make it so that we can all live when we come through.'

Sheppard elbows McKay, 'Rodney, you're confusing the man!'

But Janus just stares at him, the cogs in his mind whirring as he orders into sense McKay's rushed words. 'I can assure you, I never contemplated putting such a thing into practice.'

John starts to look concerned, 'What have we screwed up this time?'

But McKay raps his fingers against the bars and mutters, 'Great. A paradox.'

The others look at him. He looks right back, impatient, before explaining, 'Think about it. Joe Bloggs travels into the future and his future self gives him a published thesis. Joe returns back to his present, and publishes it. But who actually wrote it? Not Joe, and not Future-Joe. So where did the ideas come from? Out of thin air. Same problem here.' He groans and looks at the Lantean, 'Can you just take it as a given that you _do _not only create a time machine, but that it works? Consider us your - your voices of inspiration.'

A look of utter delight passes across Janus' face. 'Do tell me more...'

...Fifteen minutes of techno-babble later, John breaks through McKay's explanation and concludes, 'And so then, in your future, when the Wraith are knocking on your door, you're going to find a woman in your jumper from the future, and you're going to help her with whatever she needs.'

'And we can't tell you any more than that,' finishes McKay with a slightly pained look.

'But,' emphasises John, ignoring the Canadian, 'The woman is _important_.'

Janus is processing the information. 'But if _you_ aren't here when this happens, then in the meantime you must have returned to your own time, correct?'

John thinks he can feel a headache coming on and for a split second even McKay looks blank. Then he nods, 'Yes. Exactly. Somehow, you must be able to return us.' He pulls off his watch and passes it through the bars. 'This is the device we used. But it's got a code on it and won't work at the moment.'

Janus laughs, 'On, now _that _I recognise. It's my - well - it doesn't matter - someone has modified it, advanced it - yes, yes, of course - I don't know why I never considered the time travel application...' And with the huge grin of an enthused inventor slapped across his face, he starts to tinker, all the while muttering, 'Yes, yes, yes, now I see, oh, this could work, and in a puddlejumper...'

* * *

Twelve hours later, John and Rodney stand in the gateroom, Janus and a few of the members of the Council looking at them intently. They have Rodney's watch between them, while John's has been confiscated. It is clear that the Councillors aren't particularly pleased with what is happening, but Janus is beaming like a mad man. 

'We have decided,' says the eldest woman, 'That you are to return to your time. However, this will be the end of it. Your device will only work for the one trip, and we have decided that if your stories are true, then there are some things that you simply should not know.'

McKay and Sheppard exchange a look, but before they know what's hit them, two Lanteans have grabbed their heads and pressed a small, automatic injection-gun against their temples, and there's a snap and an oddly sweet smell. Just like that, their memories are altered.

'Furthermore,' she continues, while they blink and try to work out what just happened, 'This will be the end of the time machine nonsense at our end.' She glances pointedly at Janus, but when she turns away, he winks and grins broadly at the two dazed men.

Then McKay shakes his head clear, and presses the dial.

* * *

Atlantis. The gateroom. 

John and McKay stare around themselves, searching for some sign that they have genuinely reached their own time. And then there's a shout as someone in the Control Room spots them and the next moment Elizabeth comes running down the stairs, rushing to an abrupt halt about a foot from John. He stares at her pale face, and tries to think of something to say.

'Oh, John,' she murmurs, oblivious to the gathering audience, 'I thought I was never going to see you again.'

And he pulls the frail woman into his arms and holds her, and strokes her hair, and whispers, 'I was afraid you might not want to. Oh, Liz'beth, I'm so sorry. I was such an idiot.'

And she smiles up at him through damp eyes then puts her arms around him in return, and answers, 'I know.'

McKay makes a grumping noise and glances around. Well. So much for that then. He shrugs slightly, tells himself that he doesn't care that they're all there to welcome John, and walks away to his quarters for a shower and a mug of coffee. He opens the door and then stops and blinks in surprise at Meaghan, who is asleep at his desk with her head messing up a pile of paperwork.

Oh.

He walks over and pokes her in the shoulder and she wakes with a jolt and almost falls on the floor. Most of the paper certainly does, fanning out in a white arc. 'McKay!' she exclaims, 'Why did it take you so long to come back?'

He shrugs, grudgingly glad that _somebody_ noticed, and says curtly, 'A very long story. What are you doing in my quarters still?'

She thumps him on the shoulder, ignoring his question, and says happily, 'Good to have you back. This place is no fun without you.'

He looks chuffed.

She grins, 'After all, nobody else gets cranky in such a funny way.'

He rolls his eyes and pushes her out of his room. He's not sure why, though, but when he touches her skin to shove her out, he gets the sudden distinct impression that there's something important he should remember. Something, something about someone he met.

He shakes his head as the door slides shut on the sound of her laughing.

Nothing a coffee won't fix.


End file.
